


impossible comes true; it's taking over you

by orphan_account



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Beautiful, Established Relationship, Everything is happy, F/F, M/M, and imagine minkowski and jacobi singing 'the other side together'?, but better bc it's gay, oh man i love both of these shows, p much follows the plot of the greatest showman, sooo... have minkowski as the Improved Barnum, the greatest showman au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 12:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13271538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: this is the greatest show(man AU)lovelace spills the plans for a show out on their kitchen table, and minkowski has no idea how she got so lucky.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sir.” Minkowski nods at Cutter, the ring box weighing heavily in her pocket. She takes it out.

“Renee!” Cutter greets. His smile diminishes when he sees her ring box. “Oh. Today?”

“Sir, I’ll take care of your daughter.” Minkowski swallows. “I’ll give her everything she has here. I’ll give her the stars, sir.”

“I’m sure you will, Renee.” Cutter smiles tightly, obviously not believing a word of it. Minkowski cranes her head around him and spots Isabel buttoning up a vest. She slips the ring back into her vest and straightens her bowtie. “Isabel?”

Lovelace glances up from her vest. “Minkowski! I’ll be right out.”

Cutter nods curtly at Minkowski and leaves, turning down some corner in their godforsakenly huge house. Minkowski is glad to see him go. 

Lovelace shrugs on a suit coat and runs out past Minkowski. “Oh, god, it’s so nice not to be in there.” she looks dismally at the house, then back at Minkowski. “Where to?”

Minkowski follows her down the stairs. “The city, obviously. I thought we’d go up on my roof?” Minkowski does not have the money for something fancy, and stargazing was romantic, right?

“Romantic,” Lovelace remarks. She taps Minkowski’s tie. “I like it.”

“The tie?”

Lovelace grins. “No, your socks.” Lovelace ducks into the carriage Minkowski took to the house. “Yes, the tie.”

Minkowski slides into the seat next to her. 

“West 13th St,” Lovelace directs the taxi driver.

“Thank you,” Minkowski adds.

  
  


Minkowski glances at Lovelace, sitting on the edge of the building and swinging her legs. Her bowtie rests, untied, around her neck, and her jacket, along with Minkowski’s, is piled on the floor- or, rather, the roof. 

“Hey.” Minkowski comes to sit down next to her.

“Hey.”

Minkowski points at a constellation- a half dozen stars to Isabel’s left. “That’s my favorite.”

Lovelace scowls up at the sky. “What’s your favorite?”

“The constellation.” Minkowski scoots closer and takes Lovelace’s hand, using it to point at the stars. “It’s called Hephaestus.”

Lovelace hums. “It looks like a jumble of stars to me.”

Minkowski stares up at the sky. “See, that’s his eye, and those stars are his waist.”

Lovelace points in the other direction. “That’s Jupiter.”

Someone a few streets away starts playing a music. Lovelace kicks her heels against the building, keeping time. Minkowski smiles.

Sometimes Minkowski feels like she’s living in a musical; like there’s a soundtrack to her life that no one can hear but her. 

Minkowski stands up and pulls Lovelace up. Lovelace trips and falls over, her top hat rolling away. She stands back up and dashes to grab it, then hangs it on the clothesline pole and picks up Minkowski, who laughs. 

They sway like that for a few seconds before Minkowski disentangles herself. She puts a hand on Lovelace’s shoulder and the other on her hip. Lovelace mirrors her, and they dance around the clotheslines. 

“I have a lot of ideas,” Minkowski says finally.

Lovelace hums. “Are they good ones?”

Minkowski looks up at her. “God, I hope so. I’ll have a wife to support.”

Lovelace furrows her brow. “Minkowski, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Minkowski takes a step back and rifles through her vest pocket for a few seconds before finding the small box. She opens it, and Lovelace blinks. 

“ _ Renne-”  _

Minkowski beams. “We’re going to make a world for ourselves, Isabel.” She pauses. “Will you marry me?”

Lovelace nods and takes the ring, sliding it onto her finger. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes. 

Minkowski kisses her.

_ A million dreams is all it’s gonna take. _

 

Minkowski has a wife, the deed to twelve shipwrecked merchant ships, and no job.

“Lovelace-”

“Up here.”

Minkowski walks up the stairs to the roof, trailing her fingers up the wrought iron railing. Lovelace is at the top, staring dismally at a basket of sheets. 

“Need some help?” Minkowski grabs a sheet and throws it over the clothesline, then goes to straighten it out.

Lovelace sighs and sits back. “ _ Please. _ ”

Minkowski grabs another sheet and sighs. She holds it above her face to fold it in half. “I’ll be home to help with chores a lot more, now.

Minkowski can’t see Lovelace over the sheet, but she knows exactly what she looks like, with her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed. “He fired you, didn’t he? The  _ bastard. _ ”

Minkowski drops the sheet and holds up the deed. “Went bankrupt, actually.”

Lovelace laughs humorlessly. “So not only is he a bastard, but he can’t finance?” She pauses, seeing the deed, and grabs it from Minkowski. “He gave you his merchant ships? They must be worth thousands-”

“Not when they’re at the bottom of the South China Sea.”

Lovelace sighs. “Minkowski-”

“Why are you doing laundry right now?” Minkowski interrupts. “It’s late.”

Lovelace sighs again. “I forgot. I was… doing something earlier.”

Minkowski sits down next to Lovelace and unties her bowtie. “Doing what?”

Lovelace doesn’t say anything, just looks up at the stars. “Which Hephaestus?”

Minkowski automatically points to the constellation, then looks at Lovelace quizzically. “Why?”

“I was thinking about the night you proposed to me.”

Lovelace was not one for the sedimental. They had talked about their engagement twice, at the most, after they were married. 

“Why?”

“I have a lot of ideas,” Lovelace says. “I was thinking about one of them.”

Minkowski frowns at her. “What’s your idea?”

Lovelace drags her down the stairs and into their apartment- tiny and squashed and filled with stuff and opens a drawer beside the sink. It spews out rolls of butcher paper, covered in pencil. Minkowski unfurls one on the kitchen table, grabbing a potato from the counter to keep it from rolling back up. She looks up at Lovelace, confused. “A show?”

Lovelace nods, taking out another sheet. “A circus.”

Minkowski rummages through the drawer, peering at the papers. “This is-” she looks up at Lovelace. “This is amazing.”

Lovelace leans back against the counter. “I try,” she says, not quite succeeding in modesty. 

“How are we going to finance it?” Minkowski rolls up another paper. “We don’t have collateral-” 

Lovelace takes the deed out of her breast pocket. “Yeah, we do. At the bottom of the South China Sea.”

Minkowski laughs: she can’t help it, it’s just so  _ good.  _ “Oh god. I can’t believe I’m married to you.”

“Yeah, I know. Pretty lucky, right?”

Minkowski wraps an arm around Lovelace’s waist. “We’re going to do this. Right away. If you go to the bank for a loan, I’ll look for people to hire-”

“Tomorrow,” Lovelace says. “Right away tomorrow.”

Minkowski leans into her wife, resting her head on Lovelace’s shoulder. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

_ A million dreams, for the world we’re gonna make. _


	2. Chapter 2

Minkowski nails up one last poster, slipping her hammer into her belt loop. Lovelace’s on the other side of the city, sitting in the bank waiting room, waiting.

Minkowski’s been everywhere, with so many nails. And posters. And people glaring at her. Oh, god. She takes off her hat and wipes her forehead.

And now she’s only got one more poster, so she either needs to go home and get some more or start actually looking for-

There’s a puff of smoke from the window of an apartment a few yards away. It’s green, and Minkowski puts her hat back on and dashes up to the house. Knocks on the door. Leans on the wrought iron fence. Knocks again when no one answers. Finally stands up, opens the door, and barges up the stairs. 

There’s another low ‘boom’, and green smoke seeps from under a door. Minkowski swings the door open, expecting an old man holding a vial or two of chemicals. Instead, there’s no one, just a snake, sitting on a counter, with a small jar of something green. Minkowski takes a breath and a few steps forward. The snake hisses.

“Blessie,” Someone commands, and the snake drops. “Good.”

Minkowski whirls around. “Who said that-”

There’s a woman behind her, with shoulder length dark red hair, a dark gray coat and a phantom of the opera-esque mask covering half of her face. “Who are you. Why are you in here?”

Minkowski holds up her remaining, trying to ignore the mask and the potentially venomous snake behind her. “I’m looking for performers. Could you do this with bigger animals?”

The woman frowns at her. “Sure. Probably. Why?”

Minkowski points at the poster. “I’d like to hire you.”

The woman hisses under her breath and the snake slithers over to her. “I’m happy enough with my job.”

Minkowski frowns. “ _ Do  _ you have a job?”

The woman lets her snake twist around her fingers. “Not exactly,” she admits. “Well, not anymore.”

“Do you need one?”

“Yes.” She sighs and twists her hair out of her face. “I’m Maxwell. What’s your show about?”

Minkowski grins. “You.”

Maxwell stares at Minkowski, then laughs. “Oh, great.” She slips the snake into her pocket. “Do need anything?”

“Not yet.” Minkowski tips her hat and runs back out into the street, almost skipping. 

It’s working. It’s actually working. 

 

“I’m thinking here,” Lovelace says, taking a few steps back into the street. Minkowski looks up at the building. It’s tall and brick, and decidedly dilapidated. 

“It’s certainly got character,” she says slowly. 

Lovelace scowls. “I can fix it up. And besides. We can afford it.”

Minkowski walks up to the doors and opens it. It creaks on its hinges and she winces. The inside is empty other than the rotting bleachers, and the floors are brick. There’s a ghost of paint on the walls, and the only doorway in the giant room is empty, the door lying on the floor next to it. 

“Fixer-upper,” Minkowski agrees. “Right.”

Lovelace put a hand on her shoulder. “Yup! Should take me no time.” She grins at Minkowski.

They stand like that for a little while, staring at the empty room. Minkowski in horror, Lovelace with a determined look on her face. 

There’s a creak from just out of Minkowski’s frame of vision and she jumps back into Lovelace. “What. The. Hell-”

“Minkowski, I presume?” A man steps out of the shadows. “Doctor Alexander Hilbert.”

Lovelace takes a step forward. “That’s not what you told me-”

“I also operate under the alias Doctor Elias Selberg,” the man admits. 

Lovelace shrugs at Minkowski. “I think he kind of comes with the building.”

“I sold tickets for the previous owners.”

“I thought he could do the same for us,” Lovelace says. Minkowski nods and sits down on the bleacher, which promptly collapses under her weight. 

She rubs her forehead. “Oh, god.”

Hilbert surveys the building. “It is just a fixer-upper,” he says. “It will be show-ready in no time.”

Lovelace ruffles his hair and Hilbert leans away. “Right! Show-ready!”

“Yeah,” Minkowski says weakly, “Show-ready.”

Lovelace walks over to Minkowski. “We’ve got all the time in the world,” she reassures. 

“The loan has to be paid off monthly.”

“We have a month or so.” 

 

Minkowski is talking to people who want to join her show while Lovelace works with Hilbert to try to fix up the place. Lovelace, not knowing what to start with, had bought a tape measure and a bucket of red paint. Hilbert is explaining to her that she needed new wood for the bleachers, and Lovelace is nodding and playing with the tape measure. 

Minkowski is sitting on a crate, talking with a pair of siblings, who are apparently acrobats.

“Trapeze artists,” the girl corrects. 

“Yeah, it’s like flying, except your leg is tied to a rope,” the boy says.

Minkowski leans forward. “And what are your names?”

“Hera,” The girl says.

“Doug,” The boy says.

Minkowski jots that down. “Last names?”

“Eiffel,” Doug leans over to look at Minkowski’s clipboard. “With two ‘f’s.”

“Yes. And your sister has the same last name?”

“Actually,” Doug says, and he’s cut off by Hera, who nods vigorously. 

“Also with two ‘f’s,” she says. 

Minkowski frowns at her, and she widens her eyes, which are antifreeze blue. Minkowski shrugs and writes down the name. “Hera and Doug Eiffel, acrobats.”

“Trapeze artists,” Eiffel corrects. 

“Uh-hu. You’re hired.”

The high-five- or, rather, Eiffel high-five’s Hera, who holds up a hand, and they wander away. 

“Name?” Minkowski asks the next person in line.

“Klein,” he says. 

Minkowski writes down the name. “Great.”

 

“Lovelace, why are you  _ still  _ painting the ring?” Minkowski’s top hat is missing, and her cane is somewhere, and the ring isn’t even fully painted. “We have one hour until showtime!”

“It’ll dry in an hour.” Lovelace puts the finishing touches on the ring and stands up. “See? It’s even shiny.”

Eiffel wanders past and grins approvingly. “Nice. Shiny.”

“See?” Lovelace dusts off her hands. “It’ll be fine.” She moves to rest a hand on Minkowski’s arm and Minkowski jumps back. 

“Not the uniform!” Minkowski dusts off the front of the red coat again and glances at Lovelace’s paint-stained hands. “I love you, but this suit cost a fortune.”

Lovelace shrugs and stuffs her hands in her pockets. “I’m going to go work on some stuff backstage-”

“Oh! Oh yes! I should be doing that too thank you.” Minkowski races backstage. 

Klein looks up from the book he was reading. “Minkowski, how can I-”

“Where’s my hat.” Minkowski frantically looked around the backstage, packed with actors getting ready. “I’m missing my top hat!”

There’s a quiet chuckle from above her and the top hat falls on the ground a few feet away. “Sorry, commander.”

Minkowski bends to pick up the hat, then looks up. “Hera?”

Hera, sitting on a metal hoop suspended from the ceiling, smiles, and waves down at Minkowski. 

“Hera, what- why are you calling me commander?”

Hera shrugs. “You’re kinda like our commander, aren’t you? None of us are exactly the military type, but my mom was-” she coughs. “There’s a snake in that hat, commander.”

Minkowski drops the hat and peers inside. There’s a tiny black snake curled up in it. “Maxwell, I-”

“Commander,” breathes Maxwell, “I am so glad I found you, I can’t find- Oh, there he is.” she picks up the snake and taps its head. “Why are you in  _ there?”  _

Hera whistles and grabs a rope a few feet away, swinging to another balcony. 

Maxwell doesn’t even glance up, just slips the snake into one of the many pockets on her costume and tips her hat to Minkowski. “Thanks, commander.”

“Yeah, thanks… Maxwell.”

Minkowski pulls the hat on and collapses onto the hay bales they’re using as seats. “Oh, my god.”

Eiffel looks up from filing his nails. “Relax, commander. It’s an hour to the show.”

“Forty-seven minutes, now,” someone says in passing. 

Minkowski takes a deep breath and stands up. “Forty-six,” she corrects, looking at her watch. “We’ve got work to do.”

 

Eiffel jostles into Minkowski. “Oh, god, we did it! That was a great show!”

Minkowski rubs the rim of her hat. “Yeah, we… did it.”

Lovelace runs up to her and wraps her up in her arms. “You did it, Renee!”

“ _ We  _ did it,” Minkowski corrects, kissing Lovelace. “Nothing broke. The ceiling didn’t collapse.”

Lovelace preens. “I told you Hilbert and I did a good job.”

Klein passes by, beaming. “The audience loved it!”

Minkowski smiles slowly. “They did, didn’t they.”

Lovelace sweeps her up, and her coat-tails trail on the floor. “Speaking of the audience, I think some people might like to meet you.”

Minkowski laughs, and Lovelace carries her over to where the audience is milling around aimlessly before setting her down gently.

“Sir,” Minkowski asks the nearest person, seeing Lovelace amble away out of the corner of her eye, “How did you enjoy the show?”

“Oh, it was beautiful,” the man gushes, sweeping back his bangs. His plus-one, a shorter man in a trench coat, nods in grudging agreement.

“It was impressive. Thank you.”

“Thank you! Be sure to tell your friends about it!” Minkowski delves deeper into the crowd, fending off ‘brava’s and ‘good show’s until she gets to the door. She bursts outside, and there’s no one there but a tall man, looking out at the street. 

“Miss,” Minkowski says, “Did you come to the show?”

The man turns around slowly. “Ah, the conductor.”

“Ringmaster, actually,” Minkowski corrects.

“I’ve been... looking for you.”

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” Minkowski plasters on a smile.

“Mm.” The man smiles. “I’d like to file a … complaint.”

“If you’d like a refund, please ask our tickets salesman-” Minkowski wants to get this conversation over with. 

“Damn right I want a refund. That was trash.” The man takes a step toward Minkowski and Minkowski takes a step back. “I came because I heard that Isabel Lovelace’s-”

“Isabel Lovelace-Minkowski, actually.”

“Isabel Lovelace’s wife was the ringmaster, and I’m afraid that my money has been wasted-”

“You paid a quarter,” Minkowski says. “It wasn’t exactly a king’s ransom.”

“An hour of my life has been wasted on those…” the man waves a hand. “Freaks.”

Minkowski pauses and takes a breath. “Those  _ freaks  _ have talent, and a soul, two things, I’m afraid, you  _ don’t  _ seem to.”

The man’s face is unreadable and he takes a notebook out of his pocket. He hums to himself. “Positively atrocious show,  _ and  _ a rude ringmaster. I’d give it one out of four stars.” He smiles at Minkowski and slips a flask out of his jacket, walking away.

Minkowski watches him go, halfway between dumb-struck and furious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway so lovelace just picks up minkowksi all the time. its canon now.
> 
> comments and kudos legit make my days like 90000% better!!


End file.
